The Ghost Boy
by RedVinesFTW
Summary: Kurt Hummel is escaping the ghosts of his past. But what happens when he sees the supernatural figure of a teenager? He must unravel Blaine Anderson's haunted past so he can move on to the afterlife. But what happens when along the way, he realises that he doesn't want Blaine to leave? Rated: T, to be safe. Ghost!Blaine. Klaine.


**A/N: New fanfic, I know. I haven't finished my last one yet, and I'm already starting a new one. But that doesn't matter.**

**Thanks for taking an interest in this fanfic, and I hope you stick with it through the chapters! But most of all, enjoy!**

**AU. Set a couple of years after Graduation. Kurt and Blaine haven't met yet.**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**_

The Ghost Boy

The man struggled to open the lock with the keys that were in his free hand. His other hand was carrying a large designer suitcase that was stuffed with clothes and essentials that he had obviously packed in a hurry. He finally managed to unlock the door, and shoved it open with his shoulder, coughing as the dust that was previously on the floor was now billowing around the barren room. He eyed it up, his nose slightly scrunched as a gust of wind from the open window blew in the smell of rotting garbage.

Kurt could tell that the room hadn't been occupied in a long time by the large cobwebs that had formed in each corner of the room, and he sighed, placing down his luggage and going to fetch the rest of it from the trunk of his car. Once he had collected it all, he went over to a chair and sat on it, clutching his head in his hands. He wondered why he had decided to leave his home and come and live in Westerville. And then he remembered. He cradled himself, and allowed the tears to fall, the only sign of weakness that he had shown since the whole ordeal had begun.

But there was no use crying over the past, Kurt had soon told himself, and he started to organise the small number of items that he had brought with him. Clothes, shoes, anything that he could get his hands on in the short amount of time that he had to get himself out of there. No one would be able to find him here, he was safe, he kept reassuring himself.

Kurt placed his suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, waiting until he retreated to his new bedroom before he put them away. He decided to look around the rest of the house, his curiosity getting the better of him. It was old, that much he could tell. The floorboards creaked whenever he stepped on them, and the layers of dust on each piece of furniture that had been abandoned suggested that it hadn't been inhabited in an extremely long time.

The atmosphere in the house was stifling, and now that Kurt had gotten as settled as he possibly could, he felt the urge to go out and get a coffee. Something that would help bring back the normality in his life. So he pounded the streets, searching for the nearest coffee shop that sold a decent cup of the steaming hot liquid. He soon found one, and he walked up to the counter, before ordering what he used to have on a regular basis back in Lima. He sat down at a table, waiting for his coffee to be brought to him by one of the many waitresses.

"Here you go. One grande non-fat mocha. Piping hot," the waitress said, placing the coffee down on his table, winking at him and walking away, already concentrating on the next customer.

Kurt was perplexed, but he shrugged it off, preferring to sip at his coffee and watch the hustle and bustle of the other people. He wondered what their lives were like. Were they as hard as his had been? He took another sip, paying particular attention to the waitress who had served him. She had long brown hair that went half-way down her back, and chocolate brown eyes, and while the outfit she was wearing did absolutely nothing for her complexion, Kurt was willing to admit that she looked friendly. When she raised her head and caught his gaze, Kurt gave her a small smile.

The girl took off her apron, and moved around the café until she was seated directly in front of him. "My name's Rachel," she said, smiling widely and gesturing to her name badge that was pinned onto her blouse. "What's yours?"

"Kurt."

"Well, Kurt, I've never seen you in here before."

"I've just moved," he explained, taking a sudden interest in the liquid in his cup. He didn't like the way this conversation was heading; the usual nosy questions about his private life. Where did he come from? Why did he move? Kurt wasn't ready to tell anyone that yet.

"I'm guessing you don't live too far from here then. Most people go to the coffee shop in the centre of the city," Rachel told him, trying to make a conversation with the distant stranger.

"You could say so." He tilted his head to the left, indicating the direction in which he had come from, before saying, "I live in the old house just nearby. It's a couple of blocks, but I really needed to get out of the house."

Rachel shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, and Kurt wondered what was wrong with her. "You don't mean the ancient house that's on the outskirts of the city, right?" She bit her lip, an anxious look in her eyes. "I've heard that house is haunted."

Kurt couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, but as soon as he noticed she was being serious he stopped. "You're not joking are you?" He smiled once more. "Surely you don't believe that. Ghosts don't exist." He slowly shook his head in disbelief.

"I've heard stories about that place, Kurt," Rachel said.

"Most of which are made up to scare people and keep them away from the house," Kurt pointed out. Kurt had never believed in the supernatural. There was no proof that it existed, so why would he? In his opinion, nothing was real until it could be proven.

"How do you explain the translucent figure that people have seen pacing the bathroom floor then? Or objects being moved around throughout the house? People who have stayed there have even heard the sound of a boy crying every single night."

"Rachel," Kurt said softly. "There's no proof that any of that actually happened." He smiled sympathetically at her. "Ghosts are just figments of people's imagination. They don't exist." Kurt drained the rest of his cup, and watched Rachel assess what he had just told her in her mind. They sat there in uncomfortable silence for several moments, before the shout of a woman called Rachel back to the real world, and she realised her break was over. She quickly bid Kurt goodbye, already hurrying to her position behind the counter. Kurt smiled to himself as he left a tip on the table, deciding that this wouldn't be the last time he would see Rachel.

The sky was starting to become darker, and when Kurt finally reached home, he could just make out the twinkle of the stars in the blanket of twilight. He unlocked the door, this time easier than he had this morning, and locked it again once he was inside. The man yawned, his body tired from everything that had happened that day. He picked up his suitcase and dragged it up the stairs, every so often nearly dropping it. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he went through the first door on his right, which led him to a fairly large sized bedroom. He figured it would be good enough for him, and looked around, taking in his surroundings. The wallpaper had faded, but Kurt could still make out the red and blue stripes. He touched the walls, feeling the history in the room. Who had lived in this house before him? He sat on the bed, this thought still bouncing around in his mind. He wondered what they were like. Were they old? Were they young? Why did they leave? All these thoughts were what Kurt had on his mind as he changed into some clean pyjamas and settled into bed. He closed his eyes, and the face of a young boy with curly dark hair flooded his mind.

Blaine watched the man fall asleep restlessly, his facial expression pained. He looked down at his translucent hands, and clenched his fists, turning his back on Kurt and walking through the wall towards the bathroom, where he sat, trying to stifle the tears that always came. This was how it always happened. The pain, the guilt, the hatred. The same vicious cycle that haunted him ever since he died. He couldn't stop it, no matter how much he wanted to. And so he lived his unhappy life, existing each day until he could finally find his chance of happiness, his ticket to the afterlife.

**A/N: I know I haven't finished my previous Klaine multi-chaptered story, but I just had to start this.**

**Please review!**


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